


Any Other Name

by notionally



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Choi Youngjae/Im Jaebum | JB, Minor Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, Minor Park Jinyoung | Jr./Mark Tuan, idk what to tag this with really, jjp are together and then they're not, the whole soulmates thing just causes problems tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:32:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notionally/pseuds/notionally
Summary: Jinyoung waits with apprehension for his boyfriend Jaebum’s eighteenth birthday, when the name of his soulmate is due to appear on the inside of his wrist. Because what if the name that appears there isn’t his?To get over that problem, they agree to never look at their soulmate names.Then, one day, a guy turns up with Jinyoung’s name marked on the inside of his wrist. And Jinyoung succumbs to the temptation, takes a peek at the name on his own wrist. He’s still hoping, against all odds, that it will be Jaebum’s name inked there.But it’s not.





	Any Other Name

 

“ _What’s in a name? that which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet_ ” – William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

 

*

 

_“You’re going to get your name soon.”_

_“I know.”_

_“What if it’s not me?”_

_“It will be you.”_

_“But what if it’s not?”_

_“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about the name.”_

_“I don’t care either.”_

 

*

 

They had promised not to look at the names. Back when they were only seventeen, but already hopelessly trapped in each other’s orbit.

It hadn’t been difficult – there were, apparently, plenty of people out there who didn’t care to know who their supposed ‘soulmate’ was. Which meant that the internet was awash with various forms of cuffs, bracelets, wristbands. All meant to be wrapped around a wrist and never removed.

Jinyoung toyed at the cuff on his left wrist. That had been five years ago. Before the names appeared on their eighteenth birthdays. In all that time, he had never felt the slightest urge to take a peek.

Until now.

Not that it mattered. It hadn’t mattered then, and it didn’t matter now. They were in love, and so what if they weren’t soulmates?

But Jinyoung couldn’t stop thinking about the guy who had walked into the bookstore earlier that week. Couldn’t stop picturing the earnest pleading in his eyes when he exposed his wrist to Jinyoung.

“ _Park Jinyoung_ ,” the guy had said. “Is this you?”

That was his name, but Jinyoung didn’t know how to answer. He fiddled with the cuff at his wrist. This wasn’t the first time someone had come up to him to ask if they were soulmates – he didn’t have a particularly unique name, after all. But there was something about this guy that made Jinyoung wonder.

Before Jinyoung could say anything, the guy noticed the cuff. His eyes widened in mild surprise. “Oh,” he said, “you don’t know.”

For some inexplicable reason, Jinyoung felt suddenly hopelessly apologetic. “I don’t,” he replied, “I’m sorry.”

The guy crooked a half-smile. “That’s okay,” he said, shrugging a little. “It’s probably not you, anyway. I’ve met a few Park Jinyoungs, and it’s never them.”

He turned to leave, but Jinyoung reached out – on impulse, not knowing what he was doing – to grab his arm.

“Wait,” Jinyoung said, stepping out from behind the counter of the bookstore. “I – what’s your name?”

The guy looked puzzled, but he turned back to face Jinyoung.

“Mark,” he replied, softly. Shyly. “Mark Tuan.”

 

*

 

He was just curious, that’s all. Mark had arrived in the bookstore where Jinyoung worked – a small, quirky establishment – and spent his time browsing the shelves, picking up one book after another that Jinyoung either loved or really wanted to read.

Then he had come up to the counter, asked about a little-known book by one of Jinyoung’s favourite authors. That had spiralled into a conversation about all of the author’s books, until Jinyoung made a joke about how the author had such a unique name.

“I want to be an author too, but my name is so common,” Jinyoung had said, grinning, “everyone is called Park Jinyoung these days.”

And then Mark froze.

Jinyoung couldn’t help feeling like Mark was different from all the other people who had his name on their wrist. This was the first time Jinyoung had actually felt a connection with one of them.

But they had promised not to look.

Jinyoung scrolled through his phone, stared at the contact saved simply as ‘Mark’. Innocuous. But why had Jinyoung asked for his number?

Ostensibly, because Mark seemed like a nice person to talk to, who shared Jinyoung’s interest in reading. But Jinyoung had made a promise that he hadn’t needed to.

“I don’t think I will,” he had said, quietly, just as Mark was about to leave, “but if I do – if I do look. I’ll tell you.”

And Mark had nodded simply. “Thank you.”

Jinyoung looked down at his left wrist. Fingers playing with the clasp that held the cuff securely in place.

He took a deep breath, and unhooked it.

 

*

 

The words etched in black onto the soft skin of his inner wrist:

 _Mark Tuan_.

He didn’t tell Mark.

He didn’t tell Jaebum either.

 

*

 

They’d been together for five years, but best friends for over ten. Jaebum was such a constant in Jinyoung’s life, that he didn’t even know what his world would look like without him.

And they had no secrets from each other.

Not until now.

When Jaebum got home from work the day Jinyoung looked, everything was the same. Except Jinyoung felt different.

Not any less in love, no. His entire heart and soul belonged to Jaebum.

But a fog hung over him, even as he went to the front door to greet Jaebum. Even as he let himself melt into Jaebum’s embrace, wrapping his arms around the dip of his waist.

“Missed you,” murmured Jaebum, pressing a kiss into the side of his head. Jinyoung felt his heart constrict with an ache that crawled into his throat.

That night, Jinyoung lay asleep watching the shadows shift on the ceiling, long after Jaebum’s breathing had slowed into a gently undulating rhythm. He turned his head, looked at the man sleeping beside him. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated his face, picking out the smooth planes of his cheekbones, his strong brow, his sharp jawline. Jinyoung had a sudden urge to reach out, run his fingers along the line of Jaebum’s jaw. Just to check if he was real. If he was still there.

It shouldn’t matter, and it didn’t.

But Jinyoung shifted, turned away from Jaebum. Picked up his phone. Scrolled down to the ‘M’s in his contacts, tapped out a message.

_Hey. Can’t sleep. How are you?_

 

*

 

They were just friends, him and Mark. Jinyoung hadn’t even told Mark that he’d looked at the name on his wrist. It was just that Mark was easy to talk to, and they liked so many of the same things. Things that Jaebum had little to no interest in. Jaebum had his friends that he talked music with – and now Jinyoung had Mark to talk books with. It wasn’t any different.

He couldn’t quite explain, though, why he never told Jaebum about this. Not about the existence of Mark, let alone anything to do with their soulmate names.

Jinyoung had always so staunchly disbelieved in soulmates. He was the one who, a few months before Jaebum turned eighteen, had brought up the issue. Had asked if maybe – just maybe – there was a way they could pretend they didn’t have the names. That all they had was each other.

And it wasn’t that Jinyoung wanted Jaebum any less now. But he was curious. He wanted to know _why_.

Talking to Mark was simple in a way that it wasn’t with Jaebum. Mark just seemed to instinctively understand what he was talking about, and Jinyoung didn’t have to fight to mould the amorphous thoughts in his mind into a form that Jaebum could understand. And Mark didn’t ever infuriate him in the way that Jaebum did. Mark wasn’t stubborn like Jaebum, wasn’t moody, wasn’t utterly single-minded when it came to his work that sometimes Jinyoung couldn’t help but feel neglected.

Mark wasn’t like Jaebum in any way. Which made Jinyoung wonder how well suited he and Jaebum were for each other, really.

But nor did Mark make Jinyoung’s heart race. Being around Mark didn’t make Jinyoung feel such a strong swell of affection that he thought his heart might implode.

Mark wasn’t Jaebum. And – soulmate or not, Jaebum was the one Jinyoung wanted.

 

*

 

The way Jaebum found out, in the end, was down to Jinyoung’s carelessness.

He had gotten up early in the morning, was sitting on the sofa in the living room fiddling with the cuff on his wrist. He had taken to unclasping it every so often, staring at the name, as if by sheer force of will he could shift those angry black strokes into a different form.

Jinyoung ran his fingers along the letters on the inside of his wrist, feeling the gentle thrumming of his pulse beneath the thin skin. He had been toying with the idea of telling someone. Mark, maybe – he deserved to know for sure, even if – especially if – Jinyoung wasn’t planning on doing anything about it.

But Jaebum – Jinyoung wasn’t so sure. Didn’t know how Jaebum would take it. Wondered if it would be better or worse to tell him.

The decision ended up being made for him.

“What are you doing?”

Jinyoung jumped, clasped the cuff back around his wrist. But it was too late. He knew it was too late from the tightness in Jaebum’s voice.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung said, standing up and turning to face Jaebum, who was standing behind the sofa. Watching him with a broken sort of stare.

“You looked,” Jaebum said. His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible, but still it rang out in Jinyoung’s head like the blaring of a siren. “We promised not to look.”

Jinyoung moved towards Jaebum, reached out for his hands. “Hyung, I’m sorry–” he started, but Jaebum cut him off.

“Why did you look?” he asked, pushing Jinyoung’s reaching hands away. The small action made Jinyoung’s lungs crumple in panic. He didn’t know where to start, how to explain. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

And then, the question that Jinyoung knew had been on Jaebum’s mind since the beginning.

“Whose name is it?”

Jinyoung felt tears welling up in his eyes, blinked fiercely to try and stop them from falling. “Hyung, please, I can explain–”

“I said, _whose name is it?_ ” repeated Jaebum, fiercely, his voice escalating in volume. “It’s not mine, is it? If it was you would have just said.” He takes a staggering step back as Jinyoung stumbles towards him.

“It doesn’t matter,” pleaded Jinyoung, repeating the phrase that they’ve always said to each other. “It hasn’t changed anything. Everything has been the same, hasn’t it?”

Jaebum’s jaw clenched so fiercely that Jinyoung could see it in the way his muscles tightened in his cheeks. “Everything’s been the same?” he parroted, and Jinyoung’s face fell. He realised his error. “What do you mean by that – _how long have you known?_ ”

Jinyoung took in a rattling breath. His lungs felt like they couldn’t expand fully. “Not long,” he mumbled, stepping towards Jaebum, his vision blurry with tears, “not long, a few weeks, I don’t know.”

“Don’t – don’t touch me!” shouted Jaebum as Jinyoung’s hands closed over his forearms. He backed away, eyes wide with rage, but also with hurt. “A few weeks? You’ve known for a few weeks?”

“It doesn’t matter, I love you, this doesn’t change anything,” Jinyoung begged, words spilling out of him like the tears that were overflowing his eyelids.

Jaebum laughed bitterly. The sound stabbed into Jinyoung’s chest. “Doesn’t change anything? This changes everything.”

“I don’t care about the name, I love you, Jaebum, please–”

“It’s not about the name!” shouted Jaebum, exploding in a white hot ball of fury. His eyes flashed dark, brow hanging heavy over them in a deep frown. “It’s about the fact you _looked_ – we had made a promise, and you broke it.”

He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Jinyoung pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m so, so sorry, hyung–”

“Who is it?” Jaebum asked, interrupting Jinyoung abruptly. His voice was deathly quiet now, and it scared Jinyoung even more. He looked up in surprise. “I said, who is it?” Jaebum hissed. “The name on your wrist. Your soulmate. _Who is it?_ ”

Jinyoung shook his head frantically. It didn’t matter, it didn’t.

But Jaebum just scoffed. “It’s whoever you’ve been texting all the time recently, isn’t it?” he asked coldly.

Despair flooded Jinyoung’s body. He couldn’t form any words, but his silence was answer enough for Jaebum.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Jaebum said. Then he turned, and walked straight out the front door.

 

*

 

Jaebum came back later that day. After countless missed calls from Jinyoung, and pleading, apologetic texts. After Jinyoung had given up all hope, had collapsed on the bed and sobbed so hard that his throat felt scratched raw, and his eyes stung with the salt of his own tears.

But Jaebum came back. Stood over the bed, as Jinyoung pushed himself up onto his arms. He wasn’t even crying anymore – all his tears had come and gone and dried out in the bleak desert that was his heart.

“I’m still angry with you,” Jaebum said. His voice was flat, emotionless, and that hurt almost as much as his furious shouting.

“I know, I deserve it, I’m so sorry,” Jinyoung said, reaching out for Jaebum. He was desperate to feel Jaebum’s broad shoulders and strong arms encircling him again. Desperate to bury his face into the wide plane of Jaebum’s chest, inhale his warm, woodsy scent.

Jaebum seemed reluctant, but as Jinyoung curled himself into Jaebum’s space, he relented and wrapped his arms around Jinyoung. Despite himself, despite all the crying he had already done, tears started to flood Jinyoung’s eyes again. His shoulders shook with all the pent-up fear that had been coursing through him for the hours he had spent without Jaebum. The hours he had spent with nothing but his increasingly catastrophic thoughts for company.

“I love you, you know, I love you so much,” mumbled Jinyoung breathlessly into Jaebum’s shirt. Felt his heart stop at the momentary pause before Jaebum spoke.

“I know,” Jaebum whispered, his lips brushing against the top of Jinyoung’s head. “I love you, too.”

And Jinyoung believed, he really believed, in that moment, that everything would be okay.

 

*

 

Jaebum, when Jinyoung asked hesitantly a few days later, said that he had no interest in looking at his own name.

“I said that it doesn’t matter,” he had said, firmly. A little sharply. “I don’t want to know.”

But they already knew the most important thing about their soulmates – which was that they weren’t each other’s.

Things were never quite the same after that.

Jinyoung said he would stop texting Mark, stop hanging out with Mark. But Jaebum had just snappishly said that he didn’t care. Which was a bare-faced lie, because _how_ could he possibly not care that his boyfriend was talking to his soulmate?

Jaebum may have said that he didn’t care, but just how much he cared showed through his actions. He became more distant, more distracted. Like his mind – or his heart – wasn’t really there. His kisses felt perfunctory, his hugs robotic and his ‘I love you’s like a recitation of memorised lines.

And Jinyoung had seen Jaebum fiddling with his own cuff a few times. Had caught the wistful, contemplative look on his face as he toyed with the clasp. Unclicking it, clicking it back, unclicking it again, without ever taking the cuff off. The same thing Jinyoung had done for days before he’d finally removed the cuff entirely to look at the name beneath.

He had no right to be angry, but something inside him blazed nonetheless to see Jaebum battling with the desire to see the name of his soulmate etched onto his skin. Jaebum was his, his alone – it was unbearable, thinking of a name printed on Jaebum’s wrist that wasn’t his own.

This was probably what Jaebum had felt, when he’d first found out. The thought of the pain he must have inflicted on Jaebum, along with the crushing ache of his own jealousy, made Jinyoung weak with despair.

They continued this aimless charade, pretending things hadn’t changed, pretending that the names didn’t matter when they did – they absolutely fucking _did_ – for a few more weeks. The whole time, the unspoken tension bubbling beneath the surface.

Jinyoung was the one who ended up exploding, in the end.

He and Jaebum had exchanged mere fragments of sentences all day, orbiting around each other in their shared space, but never really interacting. Jinyoung felt shattered with the effort of trying to make things right with Jaebum, to try and bring them back to where they had been, _before_.

But he was coming to realise that things would never be like the way they were before.

Back when they didn’t know, they could pretend. Could pretend that they were soulmates, that if they took off their cuffs they would see each other’s names printed there.

Now that they couldn’t pretend anymore, there was a tug of dissatisfaction that was slowly wearing down at the bond between them. Forged over ten years of friendship. Five years of love. So easily worn away.

Jaebum was sitting at his keyboard, ostensibly working. But he was staring into space, his fingers trailing along the cuff clasped around his wrist.

“If you want to look, you should just look,” said Jinyoung, suddenly. The longest sentence either of them had spoken to each other all day.

Jaebum’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, much more hostile than Jinyoung thought was warranted. But Jinyoung was feeling in an aggressive mood as well, his nerves grated raw with the endlessly mounting tension between him and Jaebum.

“Your name,” snapped Jinyoung, jerking his chin towards Jaebum’s wrist. “You obviously want to look. Just look, if you want to.”

“I’m not going to look just because I want to,” replied Jaebum coldly. _Unlike you_ , was the unspoken implication. The unsaid accusation. But Jinyoung heard it loud and clear.

“Oh, get off your high horse,” said Jinyoung, “yeah, I looked, but I didn’t let that change things between us. You haven’t even looked and you’re already pushing me away.”

This made Jaebum scoff, and shake his head incredulously. He got to his feet, stepped towards Jinyoung. “If I’m pushing you away,” he began, darkly, eyes flashing with challenge, “it’s not because I want to look. It’s because you _already looked_.”

“I said I was sorry,” replied Jinyoung, tilting his chin up. Trying to put on a facade that was stronger, calmer, more confident than he was actually feeling. “I don’t know what else you want from me. I can’t change the past.”

Jaebum sneered at him, and the sight was so unlike anything Jinyoung had ever seen on Jaebum’s face, that it made him feel completely adrift. Who was this stranger standing in front of him?

“No,” said Jaebum, sardonically, “you can’t. But I can’t forget it either.”

Evidently not. Jinyoung felt like his entire body was ice cold. Like he was watching himself drown in a frozen lake, helpless to do anything except stare in mounting horror at the impending end.

“If I can’t take it back, and you can’t forget it, then – then what?” Jinyoung asked. Even though he already knew the answer. Knew where all of this was leading.

Jaebum looked down. His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know,” he replied. But he knew. They both knew.

 

*

 

They broke up.

Jinyoung’s heart had shrivelled up and died, and he had nothing left to feel. So even as he said goodbye to Jaebum for the last time, watched him drive away in the truck with all of his things, he didn’t feel anything more than a dull sort of ache in his gut.

But then Jaebum cut him off in every way imaginable, and Jinyoung lost all trace of where the man he had loved with all of his being for five years – maybe more – had gone. That pain was acute, when Jinyoung realised that Jaebum was well and truly out of his life forever. The loss of Jaebum, not just as a lover, but from his life entirely – it made Jinyoung feel like he would asphyxiate, it hurt so much.

After a few months of feeling like he would break apart at the mere thought of Jaebum, Jinyoung finally got in touch with Mark. He needed someone – anyone – to rescue him from the endless darkness he had plummeted into. And he figured he might as well give his actual soulmate a chance.

And the past year with Mark had been good. Jinyoung had no complaints. Mark was kind, and funny, and playful. He understood Jinyoung with such ease and instinct. Sometimes it felt like they could communicate without speaking. It was so clear to Jinyoung why they were soulmates. They definitely had something that hadn’t existed with Jaebum.

But Jinyoung couldn’t stop thinking about Jaebum. Couldn’t stop picturing the way his eyes folded into crescents when he laughed, the twin moles dotted above his left eye. Couldn’t stop hearing the bright, clear resonance of his voice, or the way it darkened with desire when they were intimate.

Couldn’t stop thinking about how angry Jaebum sometimes made him. How infuriated he would get when Jaebum just couldn’t – or maybe wilfully refused to – understand what he was saying. How frustrated Jaebum’s stubbornness and refusal to relent about anything made him.

He never got angry with Mark. They were too alike, him and Mark. There wasn’t anything to get angry about. They co-existed happily, and peacefully – just the way soulmates were supposed to.

Despite himself, though, Jinyoung felt a hollowness inside him. He missed the fire that Jaebum ignited within him. Missed the things he learned about himself every time he argued with Jaebum. Missed the feeling of the two of them working together to create something – something special, that was just for the two of them. Fighting against all odds to make it work.

Except that it hadn’t worked, in the end.

And yet, Jinyoung still couldn’t let it go.

Mark knew, of course. They weren’t soulmates for nothing. But Mark held on for a year. Waiting for Jinyoung’s heart to heal, for Jinyoung to put Jaebum where he belonged – in the past.

It took a year for Mark to realise that Jinyoung would never be free of Jaebum.

When Mark finally sat Jinyoung down and ended things, it wasn’t really too much of a surprise. Nor did it hurt too much. Certainly nothing compared to what Jinyoung had endured when Jaebum had left him.

They stayed friends, though – a soulmate bond wasn’t one you could give up that easily. And Jinyoung loved Mark, in his own way. Just not in the way Mark wanted. Not in the way Jinyoung had loved – still loved – Jaebum.

Jinyoung wasn’t sure he would ever be able to love anyone the same way again. Had resigned himself to a life of solitude, and regret.

Then he met Jaebum again.

 

*

 

Jinyoung was wandering through the flagship store of the city’s biggest bookstore, aimlessly picking up books that caught his eye and flicking through the pages. He had landed a job at a small publishing house, which was incredible, but now that he no longer worked at a bookstore, he missed it. Missed being surrounded by shelves after shelves of endless books.

He turned the corner from the film and photography section, into music – and that’s where he saw him. Standing with his head bowed, a hardcover book open and balanced on one palm, while the other hand flipped slowly through the pages.

Having not seen Jaebum for over a year, Jinyoung had forgotten just how beautiful he was. This sudden intrusion of Jaebum into his life knocked all of the air out of Jinyoung’s lungs. He gaped openly at Jaebum, only a few feet away from him, close enough to touch if only he reached out his arms.

He looked exactly as Jinyoung remembered, except his hair was a dark shade of silvery blue. It suited him, emphasised the clarity and brightness of his skin. But other than that, he was the same in every regard. The same oversized hoodie, the same dark blue jeans. Even the same scattering of studs decorating his ears, and the silver rings on his fingers.

Jaebum must have sensed someone staring at him, or maybe he was just glancing around. In any case, he looked up, his eyes sweeping idly across the room. Until they landed on Jinyoung.

“Jinyoung,” breathed Jaebum, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Like Jinyoung was a ghost, risen from the dead. Jinyoung felt the same way about Jaebum.

“Hi–” Jinyoung started, then hesitated. He had been about to call Jaebum ‘hyung’ – old habits die hard. But that probably wasn’t appropriate anymore. ‘Jaebum-ssi’ felt too oddly formal, though, so Jinyoung just let his greeting peter off into silence.

Thankfully, Jaebum offered him a small smile, shut the book he was holding and placed it back on the shelf. Jinyoung took that as a positive sign that Jaebum didn’t want to punch him or shout at him, and so took a step forward.

“It’s been so long, Jinyoung-ah,” Jaebum said, his voice civil, friendly even. But still guarded. The use of Jinyoung’s nickname seemed to startle even Jaebum himself, and he stopped talking abruptly. Blinked a few times like he was trying to clear his head.

Hearing his name in Jaebum’s voice once again – it sent shivers coursing through Jinyoung’s body. It was incredible, how being close to Jaebum – and not even that close, really – could turn Jinyoung’s mind into complete mush.

“How are you?” asked Jinyoung. His voice was low, and dark, and sounded slightly hoarse to his own ears.Jaebum tilted his head to the side, and Jinyoung had to suppress the surging rush of desire he suddenly had to cup that beautiful, precise jawline in his hand.

They were moving slightly, fractionally, closer, with every sentence exchanged. Jinyoung could barely stay on his feet, he was so frighteningly light-headed from the proximity.

“Fine,” Jaebum said, half-shrugging. His dark eyes burned down into Jinyoung’s core. “I miss you.”

Jinyoung couldn’t form any words. His throat felt like it had dried up completely. He made a sort of strangled noise of assent, nodding shakily. After all this time, after everything he had been through, Jinyoung was astounded to find how completely and utterly Jaebum could still throw him off balance.

“I’m sorry,” said Jaebum, when Jinyoung failed to respond with any coherent sentiment. His eyes cast down towards the floor. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not fair.”

Jinyoung wanted to fall to his knees, beg for forgiveness. He was the one who should be sorry. But he just stood there, frozen, as Jaebum shuffled his weight from one foot to the other.

When Jaebum looked up again, there was a broad grin plastered on his face, but there was a stiffness in his expression. “How is Mark?” he asked.

It wasn’t clear how much Jaebum knew about Jinyoung’s life. Whereas Jaebum had locked all of his social media accounts, and Jinyoung hadn’t been able to glean any information from the internet, Jinyoung had left all of his privacy settings broadly the same. But Jaebum would have had to go to Jinyoung’s page intentionally to see any of Jinyoung’s pictures.

Jinyoung wasn’t taking any chances. “We broke up,” he said, quickly. “We were together for a bit, but we broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jaebum, though he didn’t look that sorry. Just faintly curious. “Wh– I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, but why?”

Breaking up with your soulmate was rare, and maybe that explained the look of surprise that crossed Jaebum’s face. Jinyoung was trying not to think too much about it, about what Jaebum could possibly be thinking. It was all he could do to stop himself from taking that one final stride into Jaebum’s personal space, press their lips together like he had done, so many, countless, times before.

“He broke up with me,” explained Jinyoung, quietly. They were still in a fairly busy bookstore, but it was as if the entire world had faded away around them. Jinyoung could see nothing except the intensity of Jaebum’s gaze, the shadow of his brow, the angles of his cheekbones.

All sense of what was or was not appropriate disintegrated.

“He said that,” Jinyoung continued, his voice feeling thick and difficult to wield properly, “that I was still in love with – someone else.” He paused, looked into Jaebum’s eyes meaningfully. “He thought I was still in love with you.”

Jaebum swallowed, and Jinyoung’s eyes followed the bobbing rise and fall of his adam’s apple. It was difficult not to think of the number of times Jinyoung had pressed kisses to that very spot on Jaebum’s neck.

“And?” questioned Jaebum, “Are you?”

 _Yes_ , Jinyoung thought, without hesitation. _Yes, so fucking much_.

But he couldn’t find his voice, and he didn’t get a chance to, because a loud voice called out Jaebum’s name, and Jinyoung stumbled backwards, away from Jaebum, in a panic.

“Jaebum-hyung!” the person repeated, and then a guy with round cheeks and a sparkling grin was rounding the corner and bounding up towards them. He linked his arm with Jaebum’s so comfortably, so easily. Jinyoung felt a jolt of surprise course through him, then the icy cold flood of dawning realisation.

Jinyoung looked down, to Jaebum’s right wrist. Down to where that familiar cuff had sat for the entirety of the relationship.

The cuff wasn’t there.

Of course it wasn’t. But Jinyoung still felt a stab of hurt at the sight of Jaebum’s bare wrist. At the glimpse of black syllables burning bright against the paleness of Jaebum’s skin.

“Sorry I took ages, the queue was so long,” said the smiley guy, who had now hooked one arm around Jaebum’s. Then he seemed to notice where Jaebum was looking, and he turned. Towards Jinyoung. “Oh,” he said in soft surprise, “who’s this?”

This seemed to startle Jaebum back into reality. He blinked, shook his head, then gestured at Jinyoung with a vague wave of his hand.

“This is Jinyoung,” he said, and the guy’s mouth opened ever so slightly. Like the name meant something to him. Jinyoung didn’t know how that made him feel, that Jaebum had talked about him to – to this new guy.

But Jaebum was already turning to him. “Jinyoung, this – this is Youngjae,” he was saying, and his discomfort was seeping through every word. “He’s – I mean, we’re–”

“I understand,” interrupted Jinyoung. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear Jaebum say those words. _He’s your soulmate_ , thought Jinyoung. His eyes darted towards Youngjae’s wrist, and though he couldn’t see the words branded into his skin all that well, he could see enough to recognise that it was, indeed, Jaebum’s name.

It felt like the wounds of over a year ago had been ripped freshly open. Jinyoung’s chest constricted, his ribs crushing into his lungs, and he had to take a shaky gasp of breath.

“Jinyoung,” started Jaebum, but Jinyoung didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say. Didn’t want to hear the pity.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” said Jinyoung, all his words coming too quickly, stumbling over each other. “I must get going.”

Jaebum looked mildly panicked, took a small shuffle towards him, but Jinyoung backed away. “Can – can I see you again?” Jaebum asked, his voice hesitant and small.

Jinyoung would have given anything to hear those words a year ago. But now – now that he was standing here, looking at Jaebum and his _soulmate_ – Jinyoung wanted nothing more than to just flee, get Jaebum out of his life and out of his mind forever.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” replied Jinyoung, his hoarse voice barely more than a whisper.

And with a final, woeful, glance at Jaebum, Jinyoung turned and walked away.

 

*

 

As much as Jinyoung wanted to, he couldn’t quite push Jaebum out of his mind. All the memories that had faded slightly over time had only been brought back into sharp focus by seeing Jaebum again.

Jinyoung ended up telling Mark about the encounter with Jaebum. And Mark’s boyfriend as well, a guy named Jackson with a loud voice and a magnetic personality. Jackson had never gotten a name – one of the incredibly rare ones who never did – so it kind of worked out perfectly. Seeing them together made Jinyoung realise that people didn’t need to be soulmates to be perfect together. There was something about the push and pull between Mark and Jackson that was absolutely electric, and they both challenged and complemented each other. Jinyoung couldn’t imagine either of them with anyone else.

He wished, not for the first time, that he had realised all of this before he had gone and ruined things with Jaebum.

But now – now it was too late.

“It’s not too late,” Mark disagreed, “he said he missed you. And he wanted to see you again.”

Jinyoung grimaced. He didn’t know what that meant, but he really, really didn’t want to get his hopes up. “He probably meant just as friends,” he said, “he has his soulmate now. Why would he want me?”

“Technically, the two of you have your soulmates too,” piped up Jackson. “But you don’t want each other. So maybe he wants you, regardless.”

Mark nodded. “You guys have so much history,” he agreed, “a name on a wrist doesn’t negate all of that. It doesn’t for you.”

No, it didn’t for Jinyoung. But who knew how Jaebum felt about the whole soulmates thing now? He was with Youngjae, and they seemed perfectly happy. Who was Jinyoung to try and wedge himself in between that, just for a _maybe?_

Jackson sat down next to Mark on the sofa, and Mark slung his arm over his shoulders. Their easy closeness sent a pang of envy shooting through Jinyoung.

“To be honest, who even knows whether the names are actually the names of our soulmates?” mused Jackson suddenly. He trailed his fingers over the black marks on Mark’s wrist, the marks that read _Park Jinyoung_. “We just guessed, when they started appearing. We don’t know anything about them.”

Jinyoung frowned at him. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What else could they be? And how would you explain how so many soulmate pairs get married and live happily ever after, all that stupid fairytale bullshit?”

He had no idea why he was getting riled up. But the thought of it all being meaningless, the thought that maybe he had shattered the best thing in his life for the sake of nothing at all – it made Jinyoung almost wild with agitation.

Mark, as always, could sense his distress, reached out a hand to rest placatingly on Jinyoung’s knee. “Maybe the reason why soulmate pairs live happily ever after," he said, quietly, “is because they believe that they’re soulmates. That they’re meant to be together. It makes them work harder at resolving their difference. Makes them less likely to give up.”

Jinyoung felt the hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes.It all made sense, of course. These weren’t thoughts that he hadn’t had before. But he’d always tried to suppress them. Because if the names didn’t mean anything, then why had he and Jaebum broken up? Why had they let something so irrelevant tear them apart?

“I think,” Mark continued, his voice impossible soft, and gentle, like he was afraid his words would break Jinyoung. And Jinyoung thought absently that they might. He felt as fragile as a sheet of ice, felt Mark’s words hammering into him like a sledgehammer. “I think that maybe, you’ve always believed that Jaebum was your soulmate.”

A sob clawed its way out of Jinyoung’s throat. He clutched at his stomach, doubled over from the effort of holding himself together. Jackson leaned over to wrap his arms around him as the strangled sobs escaped Jinyoung.

“That’s why we didn’t work out, Jinyoung-ah,” whispered Mark, joining the huddled embrace. “You were never mine. I think – even though you and Jaebum weren’t soulmates, you always believed you were. Regardless of what the names said. You knew.”

Jinyoung knew.

He knew it then, he knew it when he had first met Jaebum, when they were both gangly teenagers in high school. He knew it the first time they’d laughed together, the first time they’d kissed, the first time they’d said ‘I love you’ to each other.

He’d known it even as Jaebum had driven away from him. He’d known it in all those long days and months without Jaebum by his side. He’d known it when he saw Jaebum in the bookstore.

And he knew it now.

Despite everything. Despite the fact that it was too late, that he had already let Jaebum slip away. He knew.

Jinyoung curled up in Mark and Jackson’s arms, and he wept.

 

*

 

What he didn’t expect, could never have anticipated, is that the one who gets in touch with him, a few weeks later, is Youngjae.

When the message request popped up, from a _Choi Youngjae_ , Jinyoung had to think for a moment before he managed to place the name – and the face in the tiny thumbnail.

Jinyoung had half a mind to reject Youngjae’s suggestion that they meet up. What could he possibly have to say to Jaebum’s soulmate? And what could Jaebum’s soulmate possibly have to say to him?

But Youngjae had seemed so earnest, so hopeful, even over text, that Jinyoung had eventually caved and agreed. Which is how he ended up sitting alone in the back corner of a coffee shop – not far from the bookstore where he and Youngjae had first met – tapping his foot anxiously.

When Youngjae finally appeared, smiling so kindly and warmly at him, Jinyoung felt a twist of envy. Despite knowing nothing about Youngjae, Jinyoung knew instantly that he would never hurt Jaebum the way Jinyoung had.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Youngjae said, dropping into the seat opposite Jinyoung. They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments, but both of them knew that they weren’t here to make small talk. Except Jinyoung had no idea what they were there to talk about.

His eyes, though, kept flicking down to Youngjae’s wrist. Now that he could observe it up close, the words _Im Jaebum_ imprinted there were impossible to miss, or to misinterpret.

Youngjae finally noticed Jinyoung’s wandering gaze, and touched the mark on the inside of his wrist self-consciously. He looked down, eyes trained on the wood grain of the table. “You’re probably wondering why I asked to meet up,” he said. His entire demeanour changed, an air of gravity settling over him.

“If you’re here to tell me to stay away from Jaebum – don’t worry, I won’t go near him,” Jinyoung said, hastily. He didn’t want to drag the conversation for any longer than necessary.

But Youngjae was shaking his head frantically. “No, that’s not it,” he said. “It’s – it’s quite the opposite, actually.”

Jinyoung frowned at Youngjae in confusion, waited for him to explain. Which, after a few moments of him seeming to struggle with how to begin, starting and stopping sentences one after the other, he finally did.

“Jaebum-hyung – we’re not, I mean – we’re soulmates, but we’re not – you know,” Youngjae said, scrunching up his face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” apologised Jinyoung. He felt bad, somehow, like it was his fault for causing Youngjae distress.

Youngjae shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry, I’m not making sense,” he said, exhaling sharply and starting again. “What I’m trying to say is – Jaebum-hyung and I, we’re not _going out_. Like, we’re not a couple.”

That was definitely not what Jinyoung had been expecting. “Uh, what?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “Are you – are you not soulmates?”

“We are,” replied Youngjae, nodding eagerly, “but I – I’m not. I don’t feel that way about him.”

“Okay,” said Jinyoung, slowly. “Does he know this? And he’s fine with it?”

Youngjae smiles softly, fondly. And despite what has been said thus far, Jinyoung still feels jealous to see the evident affection Youngjae feels for Jaebum.

“He is, because he doesn’t feel that way about me either,” Youngjae explained, “and he knows that I won’t ever feel differently. Because, you see – I don’t feel that way about anyone.”

Jinyoung tilted his head, trying to vocalise the questions that were piled up in his brain in a muddled mess. But instead he just managed a sort of enquiring noise.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a lot of information to tell you when we don’t even know each other,” Youngjae apologised, and there was such a sincere look in his eyes that Jinyoung felt himself softening, despite himself. He nodded at Youngjae, an indication that it was fine, he should continue.

Taking a deep breath, Youngjae said, “I – I’m asexual. And aromantic. I love Jaebum-hyung, but – just as a friend. And I can’t imagine ever feeling anything more for him.”

Jinyoung’s mouth fell open slightly. He felt overwhelmed – by this utterly sweet, and genuine, person, coming out to him. But also by whatever this meant for himself, and Jaebum.

“Jaebum-hyung’s never made me feel bad about anything,” Youngjae continued, seeming to gain momentum now that he had crossed the first hurdle. “But I can’t help feeling guilty, sometimes. That I can’t give him the relationship I know he wants.

“But then, I see the way he looks when he talks about you, and I know – I know he would never want that with me anyway. Because he loves you.”

This was – just too much for Jinyoung to take in. He could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears, could feel the hammering of his heart against his ribcage.

“That’s not – that can’t be right,” Jinyoung mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. There was no way Jaebum was still in love with him.

“And it’s not just because I’m asexual, either,” said Youngjae, softly, “before you ask. Even before I came out to Jaebum-hyung, he was already – he was never there to be mine. Like – he was always feeling guilty that he couldn’t commit to me in the way he thought I wanted. Because he was always thinking about someone else.”

Someone else. And that someone else was, apparently, him. Park Jinyoung.

“Why are you telling me this?” Jinyoung asked. His voice came out scratchy and raw.

Youngjae smiled wryly. “Because I’m his soulmate, and I love him and I want him to be happy. But Jaebum-hyung won’t do anything about it,” he explained, “I’ve told him so many times to get in touch with you, but he thinks you hate him. He wants you, I know he does. I may not be his boyfriend, but I’m still his soulmate. He was so broken up after we met you in the bookstore, when you said you didn’t want to see him.”

“Maybe – maybe I _don’t_ ,” Jinyoung said, shakily, “maybe I don’t want to see him.”

“Maybe,” agreed Youngjae, “but I had to try. For Jaebum-hyung’s sake.”

There was a gentle look of understanding in Youngjae’s eyes – like he knew that Jinyoung was lying about not wanting to see Jaebum. Jinyoung wanted nothing more than to see Jaebum again.

“Just – just think about it,” Youngjae said. He grabbed a pen out of his bag, and a napkin from the stack on the table. Started scribbling down a phone number, and an address, before pushing it over to Jinyoung.

When Youngjae left, Jinyoung stared at the napkin with Jaebum’s contact information for a long, long time. Then he folded it up carefully, put it in his pocket, and stood up to leave.

 

*

 

Jinyoung paused outside the front door, pulled the napkin Youngjae had given him out of his pocket, to check that he was at the right place. Not that he needed to check – the information scrawled on the napkin was already burned into his memory. He had stared at the address for countless hours over the past week or so, and now he couldn’t forget it even if he wanted to.

Just like everything else about Jaebum. It was a part of him now. Forever.

It was a risk, Jinyoung knew. But he figured that no matter what Jaebum said, nothing would change the fact that Jinyoung loved Jaebum, had always loved Jaebum – and would always love Jaebum. In that sense, it wasn’t a risk at all.

He held his hand up, knocked on the door.

For a moment, it seemed like no one was going to answer. It would all be very anti-climatic if no one was home, thought Jinyoung.

Then he heard some stumbling, clattering noises from behind the door. Heard Jaebum’s unmistakable voice, ringing out bright and clear, “Hang on, I’m coming!”

When the door opened, Jinyoung thought that his heart might stop.

Because there Jaebum was, hair flopping loosely over his forehead, hanging into his eyes. In a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. There was something intimate about seeing Jaebum in his casual clothes, the things he used to wear around the house, back when they still lived together.

“Jinyoung?” Jaebum asked, freezing in surprise. “What – how did you know where I lived?”

“Youngjae told me,” Jinyoung replied simply. His heart was pounding, but he clenched his fists to try and steady himself.

Jaebum winced. “That meddling little–” he started, then broke off, sighed heavily. “If he said anything – weird, I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t say anything weird,” said Jinyoung. He exhaled slowly, forced himself to meet Jaebum’s gaze. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” mumbled Jaebum, stepping aside, gesturing for Jinyoung to enter.

Jaebum’s flat wasn’t large, but it was clean, and mostly tidy. The small amount of clutter that littered some of the surfaces reminded Jinyoung of what it had been like when they lived together. Jaebum’s keys were on the dining table, his shoes kicked off near the front door. There was a coat thrown over the back of the sofa, and an empty glass on almost every flat surface. Jaebum had always been bad at bringing his glasses back to the kitchen.

Jinyoung was so caught up in the wave of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm him, that he didn’t say anything for a good minute. He just stood there, fighting the urge to cry, until Jaebum cleared his throat behind him.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude,” Jaebum said, haltingly, “but – what are you doing here?”

Right. Jinyoung had to focus.

“Youngjae came to talk to me,” he began, then hesitated. He had thought so much about the grand gesture, that he had forgotten all about the words he needed to use to get them there. “Youngjae – he told me – well, he said that the two of you weren’t going out.”

It seemed to take Jaebum a moment to register Jinyoung’s words, but when it clicked Jaebum nodded slowly. “Right,” he said, like he still wasn’t sure why Jinyoung was here. “I meant to tell you, that day at the bookstore – but you left so quickly.”

Jinyoung grimaced. It had made sense, at the time, to flee as quickly as possible, but how he wished he had stayed to hear Jaebum out.

But it didn’t matter, now.

“You said, that day, that you missed me,” Jinyoung continued, soldiering on. Barreling straight past any awkwardness that he might otherwise feel if he stopped to think about it. “Did you mean that?”

This sudden leap straight off the deep end visibly startled Jaebum, though he quickly schooled his face into an expression of cool neutrality again. “Yes,” he replied, firmly. “Yes, I do miss you.”

Jinyoung knew this, knew it because Youngjae had told him as much, but to hear those words from Jaebum’s mouth once again – it brought a lump to his throat that he had to swallow hard around in order to find the words to continue speaking.

“I miss you too,” he said. Took a small step closer to Jaebum. Just testing the waters, for now.

But Jaebum didn’t move away. Instead, he took a shuddering breath, his eyes darkening as he watched Jinyoung move closer.

“This whole soulmate thing,” Jinyoung murmured, now so close to Jaebum that their chests were inches away from touching, “it’s so stupid. Why should fate get to decide who we love?”

Jaebum licked his lips, and Jinyoung couldn’t help his gaze from following the movement of his tongue. The air between them felt suddenly thick.

“I have never stopped loving you,” Jinyoung said. His voice was low, a deep whisper. It rumbled in his own chest, and he wondered if it was doing the same in Jaebum’s.

“I have never stopped loving you, either,” replied Jaebum. His eyes trailed down Jinyoung’s face, paused for a breath on Jinyoung’s lips. The feeling of Jaebum’s gaze on his mouth sent electricity crackling up Jinyoung’s spine.

There was nothing Jinyoung wanted to do more than to take Jaebum's face in his hands, and kiss him hard enough to make up for all the lost time. But not yet.

"My name may not be on your wrist, but that doesn't matter," Jinyoung said, trying to get out the words that he had rehearsed in his head, but his mind was such a muddle that he couldn't remember how he had intended to say what he wanted to say. "It didn't matter then, and it still doesn't matter now. I don't want to let fate, or whatever, pick my soulmate for me."

Jaebum was watching him so intently, with such intensity. "What are you saying?" he asked softly, like he was afraid that if he raised his voice he might shatter the mirage that he was in.

Except that it wasn't a mirage. It was real. Jinyoung could hardly believe it himself.

He cracked the tiniest of smiles at Jaebum. Looked down to his own wrist. Tugged the edge of his long-sleeved shirt up. Held it up so that Jaebum could see.

There, on the inside of his wrist, the words:

_Im Jaebum._

Jaebum fell completely silent. His lips parted in surprise.

"How did you–" he started, then realisation seemed to dawn. Jinyoung was holding up his right arm, not his left. It wasn't a soulmate mark. It was a tattoo.

"It doesn't matter who the world chose for me," Jinyoung said. Nerves nearly tearing him apart. But regardless of how Jaebum responded, nothing would change the way Jinyoung felt. Jaebum was his soulmate, now and forever. And he deserved his name on his wrist.

"None of that matters," Jinyoung said again, firmly. "Because I choose you."

Tears glistened in Jaebum's eyes. He exhaled shakily. "Jinyoung-ah," he breathed. His gaze was still fixed on the tattoo on Jinyoung's wrist. When he finally lifted his head, when he finally met Jinyoung's gaze, he looked utterly wrecked. "Jinyoung – I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you."

"I love you too," whispered Jinyoung. He raised his hands slowly, hesitantly, rested them on the angle of Jaebum's jaw. Leaned forward, until their foreheads were touching. "I want you back," he murmured, "if you'll have me."

A soft puff of breath escaped past Jaebum's lips, and Jinyoung felt the warm air brush against his own lips. It felt like the faintest of kisses.

"I will always want you," breathed Jaebum. Then he closed his eyes, tilted his chin to the side, and leaned forward.

Jinyoung closed the distance between them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even believe in soulmates but I've always loved soulmate aus that take the concept and look at it from different angles - it is just such a great tool to use to examine love and relationships and all that good stuff. 
> 
> I would love to know what you guys thought (about the fic, or about love/soulmates in general!) so leave a comment, and/or hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally) i'm @notionxally on both


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